


De Profundis

by The_Unnatural_Disaster (havent_got_a_clue)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha twins - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Consensual, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Marking, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Non Consensual, Oral Sex, Scenting, Self Esteem Issues, Spoilers, Virginity, alpha pack, written before season 3A
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havent_got_a_clue/pseuds/The_Unnatural_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since that night outside the rave, Stiles has been dabbling in a little magic here and there in secret. But when an emergency happens and he tries to help with something bigger, he's devastated by how much power he doesn't have. </p><p>Enter a man who offers to help him learn and grow more powerful, who flatters him and seduces him and hints at his potential, whose very touch amplifies what he can do and it's the sort of intense that you don't come down naturally from, who is most definitely dangerous but to whom he owes his whole world.</p><p>A man who is HIS secret in a town where no one is an open book. </p><p> </p><p>Make no mistake: this is a Sterek fic. But there's a story to tell. I hope you'll join me for the ride. It's gonna be wild.</p><p>COMPLETE. COMPLETE. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank three years of film school for forcing me to make this a story arc. I'd like to thank Chris Argent and Peter Hale for letting Sterek borrow me long enough to write this. I'd like to thank cross country, archery, and gymnastics for the shin splint and sore shoulder so I have to STFD so I can write and not feel guilty.

_Officer down_. He supposes it’s ironic, in a way, that he’s trained, prepared, researched for the day something supernatural gets the best of his father and, in the end, it’s a human who finally catches up with him.  
  
 _GSW to the chest_. The doctors tried to say no, tried to make him wait outside. They tried to enlist deputies to help keep him back, but the doctors seemed to be the only residents of Beacon Hills who hadn’t yet learned the lesson that you don’t keep Stilinskis from each other.  
  
 _Internal bleeding. Collapsed lung_. It’s been at least six hours. Or six days. It doesn’t matter anyway. Stiles sits on an uncomfortable chair and rests his head at his father’s side. It’s quiet now. Well, quieter. The machinery keeping him alive is a steady din to which he’s grown accustomed. Each groan of the machine pumping air into his lungs is another moment he’s alive.  
  
Occasionally a nurse will come in and check...something. Nothing is happening, nothing changes, and he suspects it’s more to check up on him than his father. The door creaks open and the sliver of light from the hallways is blinding in the darkness. It takes a few seconds to focus and Stiles guesses it’s shift change because it’s no longer the matronly Peg with her pink scrubs garishly adorned with happy kittens.  
  
The new nurse is a younger guy he doesn’t recognize in no nonsense blue scrubs. He sets about checking vitals and readout and Stiles dutifully stands to let him have access, watches in silence for any reaction to what he’s seeing.  
  
The nurse checks the site the IV is attached, touches the skin around the bandage, and pauses there for a moment. Stiles can’t figure out why. Maybe something is wrong.  
  
“Is everything ok?” It’s the first thing he’s said in hours and his mouth is dry.  
  
The nurse cranes his neck to look at Stiles, eyes wander up and down, sizing him up, and he releases his dad’s arm and walks over to him. The light shines off his badge and it reads “Ethan” and he’s a few inches taller than Stiles with dark eyes and a curious look on his face.  
  
He quirks his mouth in a way that is making Stiles uncomfortable. “Stiles, is it?”  
  
Stiles nods. “Please, Peg wouldn’t answer any questions....”  
  
“I’ll answer any question you have, Stiles. If you answer one for me.”  
  
Stiles blinks. “OK?”  
  
Ethan’s eyes are focused on Stiles’ and Stiles can’t tear his gaze away even under such intense scrutiny. “Tell me, Stiles. Did you try to use magic on your dad to heal him?”  
  
Stiles’ mouth hangs open. “Yyy-what?”  
  
Ethan smiles. “It’s ok. I can sense it on you, the residual magic. Your dad, too. It’s easy if you know what to look for.” It’s not a judgment. It’s not a warning to stay away from it.  
  
 _This is heavy stuff, Stiles. You don’t want to get too deep into this._  
  
 _You seem to be doing fine with it, Dr. Deaton._  
  
 _Trust me on this, Stiles._  
  
“I--I tried. It wasn’t...I wasn’t enough.” He breaks eye contact to glance at his father, broken and barely clinging to life.  
  
“It takes a lot of power to do what you were trying to do. Where did you learn this?” Ethan grabs an empty chair from the corner, places it next to Stiles’, and beckons him to sit back down.  
  
“How did it start?”  
  
He looks down, remembers that night and how he felt to grasp at just that tiny sliver of power. “It was...this vet--uh--veterinarian. Said I had to be the one to do it, to spread this ash around.” He plays with his bottom lip absentmindedly with his fingers. “So I did. To help. Kind of, I mean, once I got it done it was destroyed almost immediately, but--” He breathes out. _Focus_. “Anyway, near the end, I knew there wasn’t enough to complete the circle. There just wasn’t. But Deat--the vet--told me I had to believe in it. Sounds stupid, right? Like some Disney movie.”  
  
Stiles pauses to look at the man in the chair next to him, searching for signs of disbelief, but he’s met with full attention, intelligence, and an openness he finds comforting despite....  
  
His palms are pressed together, index fingers touch his lips in thought. He raises his chin to speak. “And did you believe?”  
  
“Not at first. I mean, would you? Honestly, I don’t know how you’re even sitting here listening to me tell you this. I sound crazy even to myself.”  
  
Ethan smiles. It’s warm, inviting, and, yeah, he probably should have shut up a long time ago, but the man seems kind and knowing and he’s listening and he _believes_ and once Stiles gets started, it’s like a runaway freight train; each confession is more momentum he can’t stop.  
  
“In case you haven’t noticed, Stiles. This town has more bubbling beneath its surface that you can ever imagine. I’ve seen some things in my time. Go on, then.”  
  
Stiles cocks his head to one side. “I figured there was nothing to lose, right? And my friends were in danger. Hell, I was in danger. Like always. And suddenly, the circle was complete.”  
  
“How did that make you feel?”  
  
Stiles closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in. He looks up at his makeshift therapist through his eyelashes and licks his lips. “Powerful.”  
  
What he won’t say out loud is that the rush he got set him on edge and when things finally settled down and he found a moment to himself, he’d been so hyperaware, so hypersensitive to everything around him, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, he had made himself come harder than he’d ever have before, spilling on himself over and over, like he couldn’t get enough, and what started as his usual fantasies of Lydia turned darker and took on a more _Derek_ -like flavor and this imaginary Derek praised him for his handiwork while he fucked him up against a wall in the dirty alleyway, naked and sweaty and so into him and each time he came he thought he could take no more until he was ready again minutes later, cock stirring to the thoughts racing through his head.  
  
He was sore and wiped out the next day, but the energy he’d felt rushing through him was still rippling through him for the better part of the next morning. He was focused. Alert. He could take in everything and process it all and it was better than Adderall or coffee...or Adderall washed down with coffee. And that’s how it really began.  
  
“So what happened next? Did this vet help you understand what was happening?”  
  
“No. It was...it was a weird time. For everyone.” Coming to terms with his raging boners for Derek was just the tip of that weird iceberg.  
  
“So, you experimented.”   _In more ways than one_. He doesn’t say that out loud, either.  
  
“Yeah. Just a little here and there. Nothing big. Repair a broken glass, get rid of a pimple, maybe persuade a teacher or two to give my friend another chance to get a better grade.” And each time, no matter how small the act, his skin feels like it’s on fire and every nerve is alight and the feeling of power that sparks through him is addictive. Also something he doesn’t say out loud.  
  
But he doesn’t have to. “And how do you handle the rush afterwards? Some people run, swim, wear themselves out. Some people, it’s crazy, but they clean everything. Get into every crack with a toothbrush. Magic housekeepers would make so much money if someone wanted to start that business.” He raises an eyebrow at Stiles, sizing him up and down. “No, pretty face like yours? I bet some lucky young thing gets the best of you as you’re coming down off that high.”  
  
Stiles sighs. “If you mean Righty and occasionally her kinky twin Lefty, then yeah.” _Oh, God. Shut up, Stilinski_. It has to be the adrenaline, the lack of sleep that is taking away his inhibitions. He’s talking to a total stranger about magic and sex and monsters. Not even Scott knows about his dabbling and this guy has managed to put him at ease enough to give his entire biography in the short time he’s been sitting with him.  
  
And for the first time since he started talking, Stiles has earned a look of disbelief from him. “Shame.”  He bites his lip and holds his gaze, looks right through Stiles, and it should be creepy--ok, it _is_ kind of creepy, but there’s a sincerity in his face and it’s good to be looked at that way sometimes. Everyone he associates with these days is so preternaturally hot and he’s just...Stiles.  
  
Stiles shifts uncomfortably in the tiny chair. “I’ve--I’ve probably bored you to death, though. You obviously have better things to think about right n--”  
  
“Oh, no! On the contrary! Stiles, you’re doing me a _favor_ here, giving me good conversation. There’s not much going on at this hour. And you don’t need to be alone right now, either. Tell me, where are these friends tonight? The ones you seem to always help when they need it?”  
  
Stiles opens his mouth to get defensive, but the truth is that he doesn’t know where anyone else is. They went off doing wolfy things at Derek’s insistence; they’re probably off in the forest training or fighting or whatever, but looking sexy doing it. And why he’s here has nothing to do with them, for once, so it’s not like he’d even be on their radar tonight.  
  
The man softens a bit. “Hey, Stiles. I’m sorry. Sore subject, I guess. I won’t--”  
  
“No, it’s alright. I just...sometimes I feel like my problems are always...never....”  
  
The man places his hand on Stiles’ arm lightly, like there’s familiarity there, and Stiles feels heat through his hoodie. “I understand. I do. Tell me what happened tonight.”  
  
Stiles watches the monitors for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t...I don’t know. I wasn’t fast enough. Powerful enough. The things I’ve seen, done, man. I can’t even begin to describe what I’ve had to do in the last year, the danger, the threats, and I’ve faced each one and come out on the other side. Monsters you can’t even...and then _this_? It’s like I’ve been training, things that don’t really matter in the long run because this stuff just doesn’t...I mean, this doesn’t happen everywhere, right? I can move away and forget to carry silver one night and be ok, right? This is not going to be life forever. But my dad? To train and prepare for any possible supernatural attack and then to hear your father is shot? By an ordinary gun by an ordinary criminal committing an ordinary crime? How could I be so _careless_ to think that he was safe from something as common as that?”  
  
“You tried to help. You tried to magic him better.”  
  
“He’s my dad.” There’s no other answer.  
  
“It’s not your fault, you know. Shit happens.”  
  
Stiles knits his eyebrows together. “Yeah, but if I had been stronger. Knew more. I could have--”  
  
“Could have what, Stiles? Could have healed him? That’s really advanced magic. It’s not making your headphones float to you from the other side of the room.”  
  
Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How would you know?”  
  
“Because I can do it.” He looks at Stiles, daring him to challenge.  
  
Obviously, he doesn’t know Stiles. “Listen, mister. No offense or anything, but I’ve had a really long night and I’m really glad you didn’t call the men in white on me when I spouted off my entire catalogue of secrets I’m not supposed to talk about, but if you think--”  
  
“I can teach you, Stiles. I can see it in you.” He picks up Stiles’ arm and pushes the sleeve of his hoodie up to his elbow.  
  
“You’re absolutely pulsing with power, just underneath here.” He traces lightly along his skin, sending shivers up through his shoulder and making goosebumps rise.  
  
“Let me show you what you can do.”  
  
Stiles doesn’t pull away. The man rubs little circles on his skin with his thumb and Stiles is having a really hard time concentrating on what is real. The dim light from the hallway give them a ghostly pallor under its glow.  
  
He feels dizzy, drunk, like his skin is electrified. _No. I don’t want this. I’m not--I don’t belong in this world. Something is wrong with this_. “Yeah, ok. Yeah. Can I heal my dad? Can I make him ok?”  
  
He smiles and leans in close, rests his forehead on Stiles’ and the touch is so simple, so innocent, and yet it sends a jolt of need and more through him. “No, not today. Not alone at least. But down the road, yes.”  
  
Stiles sighs. “Not alone? Not--you’re going to help me?” It’s barely above a whisper. _What’s the price, Stiles? There’s always a price._  
  
“Yes, Stiles. On one condition: Let me teach you. Come to me completely willing. And keep it between us. I don’t do this for everyone, but there’s something...if you could see what I see surrounding you, Stiles. It’s fascinating. Do you agree?”  
  
Every cell in his body is telling him to run, get out, say no, fight, offers like this aren’t satisfied so easily, but if he takes one glance around his dad’s hospital room, the tubes, the machines, the pain he knows his dad is in-- “Yes. Yes, absolutely. Please.” He’ll sacrifice. No questions asked. It’s what he does, damn it.  
  
Ethan presses his head harder against Stiles’ for a moment and then stands up, kicks the chair out of his way. Stiles is nothing if not curious and joins him. His eyes are closed and he’s whispering, reciting something in a language Stiles can’t understand.  
  
Stiles can feel something in the air around them. A prickling of energy, if he had to use his words. He continues with his whispered incantation and his skin feels that familiar burning, the air around him hot and swirling and he knows this is more magic than Stiles has ever seen and he should be panicking, trying to stop him, because he just took this guy at his word and what in the hell did he just agree to, but he can’t tear his eyes away from him as he reaches for Stiles, grabs his hand, lacing his fingers with Stiles’ and Ethan’s burning hot everywhere he’s forced to brush up against in this position.  
  
Stiles struggles to stay upright. Every sense he has is heightened. He can feel every rub of every fiber of clothing he’s wearing, every sound is amplified, he can smell the cafeteria four floors down. His heart races and every part of him feels more alive, more everything, and the rush makes him dizzy and he’s not even sure his feet are touching the floor anymore.  
  
Stiles doesn’t fight, just stands there with his mouth open, forcing deep breaths as Ethan squeezes his hand, digs in deep with his thumb, and just as he thinks he’s going to break his hand, he lets go, panting.  
  
He backs up against the wall, panting along with Ethan and every part of him is tingling and it’s so, so good.  
  
“Did you feel it, Stiles? Wasn’t it amazing?”  
  
Stiles can’t breathe properly. “Is this--is this what it’s like? All the time?”  
  
Ethan smiles gently. “This? This was nothing. A taste. You have no idea, Stiles, what it’s like. Can you hear it now? Tell me you can hear it. You can hear everything, can’t you? But, focus. Listen. Your dad’s heartbeat. It’s getting stronger, isn’t it? Listen, Stiles. _Listen_.”  
  
Stiles closes his eyes, keenly aware of the heat next to him and, just as he said, the heart monitor is beeping steadily, stronger, no longer the weak, intermittent beats they were.  
  
“He’ll be fine. Sore. But fine. I’ll expect you when he is strong enough to satisfy you, Stiles.” Ethan turns to walk out, like they didn’t just share a moment, like he didn’t just very likely save a man’s life.  
  
“But how will I--I mean....”  
  
He turns back. “I’ll find you. Don’t worry. Remember: Tell no one. I’ll see you around, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles blinks and watches Ethan open the door and walk out. As the door clicks shut he rushes to his father’s side, touches his hand, and there’s new warmth there.  
  
The change in his vitals must have triggered an alert because the door opens again and where there was just one nurse checking on him before, there are now several nurses and a doctor or two shoving Stiles out of the way and saying things he doesn’t understand.  
  
They insist he wait outside and he’s just dazed enough to agree and maybe he needs some fresh air to calm him down because even his skin feels like it’s pulsing, but he turns the corner and just beyond the ICU doors he can sense...wow. He can sense Scott. Weird. A smell, a feeling, he can’t place it, but he knows Scott is there.  
  
He follows the feeling and finds not only Scott, but Isaac and Lydia, too. They attack him with hugs, surrounding him with love and tears.  
  
“Derek wanted to come, too. We practically had to tie him up to stop him when we heard, but it’s just too dangerous for him to be here with all the law enforcement around.” Scott whispers it in case there is anyone listening in. “But we’re not leaving you alone right now.”  
  
It’s a tense wait, but the doctor finally emerges to give some news to Stiles and the pack waiting there with him (they forced coffee down him during the wait. Coffee and sugar because they thought he needed it. Truth is he could smell the peanut butter and chocolate as soon as Scott pushed the button on the vending machine and he could probably count the change that fell just from hearing it from around the corner. The last thing he needed was another stimulant).  
  
“He’s going to be fine. He’s extremely lucky, your dad. Honestly, I don’t know how he’s already so strong. Never in my time have I seen someone start to recover this quickly. He needs some antibiotics, some painkillers, and a lot of rest. You’re going to have your hands full when he gets home, but, Stiles, he’s going to be fine.”  
  
Stiles lets out a shaky breath. The magic worked. Now what the hell had he gotten himself into? He tries to shake the thoughts from him head and focus on his dad, but from somewhere in the back of his mind, piercing dark brown eyes cut through the haze of relief and joy.  
  
It’s 5 am before Stiles crawls into his own bed. Scott and the others had insisted on following him home to make sure he was safe.  
  
Stiles flops on his bed head first and says a silent yet enthusiastic thank you to whoever might be listening that it’s Saturday morning and he can sleep in, but suddenly it’s twenty minutes later and sleep is the one thing not happening to him. He can still feel the residual magic coursing through him and it’s like sparks of electricity on his skin and every time he closes his eyes he sees Ethan, dark and intense as he leans into him, ordering him to tell no one and Stiles should run to Derek, run to Peter, hell, run to Chris Argent, but this is his secret and not one person in this town is an open book like Stiles is and now he has a secret, too. He is part of something bigger now. Not just looking into this world he didn’t even know existed a year ago. Not standing at the edge looking in at Scott and Isaac and Derek and all the bad ass things they can do. He may have turned Peter down when he offered the bite, but this is _magic_ and he doesn’t have to change physically to be part of this. He doesn’t have to change his life forever to be stronger and protect people he cares about. He can leave this behind when it’s time to go be...normal.  
  
And the rush? Well, that’s just a pleasant side effect, now isn’t it?  
  
And it’s a side effect that is begging for attention.  
  
He hadn’t bothered to change out of his clothes when he got home, and his already tight skinny jeans are that much more uncomfortable now that his body (or, more to the point, a part of his body) is allowed to focus on something other than prematurely planning his dad’s funeral. He wiggles out of them, letting his socks get tangled in the legs, and he slides out of his shirt, tossing the whole bunch in the general direction of what he thinks is his hamper.  
  
He lets his hands roam over his still hot skin, feeling everywhere there’s still a dying spark of leftover magic. It feels like he’s just run a long distance and his muscles are jumping beneath his skin and even the slightest trace of his fingers feels amplified a thousand times over.  
  
His short fingernails catch on his nipples and all the air leaves his lungs in a rush and he spends a moment on each one, licking his fingers and rubbing the erect points, imagining the flat of a wet tongue instead.  
  
He works his way down, every inch is agony until he reaches his cock and he brushes his knuckle against it and just that makes him arch up in tortured, wonderful agony and there’s no time to treat himself right because he’s coming with or without help, so he fists himself hard and fast, thrusting up, writhing on the bed, and he can hear his blood rushing and his heart pounding.  
  
He goes faster and screws his eyes shut and everything behind his eyes is bright and he slides his hand up and down his dick while his free hand works his nipples some more and--fuck--his orgasm is so good he cries out, watches the thick ropes spill across his belly and it feels like hours before they stop and only minutes before he’s hard again.  
  
 _Someone should be getting the best of me like this_.  He’s used to having a short refractory period, but it’s easily a quarter of what he’s used to now and at this point he’ll run out of fantasies before he runs out of erections and it’s sometime after the sun rises that he finally drifts off to a dreamless sleep.  
  


 

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

He awakens covered in dried come and sweat, but checks his phone first in case he slept through any calls before he heads to the shower. He grabs whatever is handy for breakfast and heads back to the hospital and Peg is back, a force to be reckoned with in her purple scrubs, but big brown eyes are no match for Peg and she gives him ten minutes, no more.  
  
He tiptoes into the room and sits next to the bed. A good number of machines and tubes are gone now. It has to be a good sign. He squeezes his dad’s hand and sees that his skin is already much pinker than it was last night.  
  
“I’m here, Dad. I’m here and you’re going to be ok. You gotta trust me that you’re going to be ok.”  
  
Stiles feels a very weak squeeze back and he exhales loudly, like it’s his first real breath in a long time, like he’s been holding it since he first heard the call go out on the radio his dad keeps at home.  
  
He doesn’t move for a long time, just watches his dad for more traces of consciousness. Occasionally there’s a tiny groan or an eyelid flutter and his fingers continue to flex and contract around Stiles’ and it’s _something_.  
  
Peg the nurse shoos him off after fifteen minutes (“His vitals get better when you’re around, son. No denying it. But he needs his rest, too.”) and he leans in and kisses his forehead and whispers a promise to sneak back in when he can.  
  
Stepping out into the sun, he figures he should go home and get stuff done around there since he’s obviously going to be man of the house for awhile, but as he makes his way back to the Jeep, he can see someone leaning against it. Ethan.  
  
“And how is he today, Stiles?” His hands are in his jeans pockets and he makes no attempt to move.  
  
“I guess I owe you thanks for what you did last night.” Stiles shifts on his feet.  
  
“What _we_ did, Stiles. The second we touched I tapped into what is hiding inside you. Couldn’t you feel it trying to claw its way out?” He pushes himself off the Jeep and reaches for Stiles, taking his hands in his own and there’s that dizzy, flying feeling again. “Can’t you feel it now?”  
  
He looks at where their hands are joined and then up to Ethan, lost in the sensation until every car alarm in the parking lot goes off simultaneously. Ethan grins when Stiles comes out of his haze, confused and trying to break away to cover his ears.  
  
“Did we do that?” He can barely hear himself over the noise and Ethan motions for him to unlock his car for them.  
  
Ethan slides in the passenger seat like he belongs there and Stiles finds himself turning over the engine and pulling out of the parking lot, avoiding the angry people attempting to turn their alarms off.  
  
“Pretty wicked, right?” Ethan’s grinning at him still, eyebrow raised as Stiles peels out onto the street.  
  
“What the hell was that? How did that happen?” He’s trying to concentrate on the traffic, but he keeps glancing at Ethan.  
  
“That’s you, Stiles. I’m just...acting like a conduit, you could say.” He takes the time to put on his seatbelt. “Turn left up here.”  
  
He puts on his blinker. “Where are we going?”  
  
“My place.”  
  
Stiles nods and listens for more directions and Ethan leads him just outside of town. They don’t talk much while he drives.  
  
It’s a decent house in a secluded area hidden by pine trees. Stiles pulls up to the fence and parks the Jeep. There are no other cars around. “S’nice. You live alone?”  
  
“Mostly. Sometimes my brothers come to stay when there’s good hunting in the area, but right now it’s just me. You hungry?”  
  
Ethan opens the door and hops out, keys jangling in his hand, and Stiles doesn’t even really know why he agreed to drive here and now he’s been casually offered food like this is going somewhere and maybe he needs more directions to figuring out where to go from here, but food is probably as good a first step as anything, so he turns off the engine and follows Ethan to the front door.  
  
Inside is clean, almost impeccably so, and sparsely furnished. Ethan gives him a brief tour of the important parts and pulls what looks like leftover chicken from the fridge.  
  
“Yeah, sorry. It’s from yesterday, but it’s pretty easy to make and I usually pick at it for a few days.” He looks sheepish for the first time.  
  
“No, no, it’s cool.” He pries off a leg and takes a bite. “So, about this...about you teaching me? You know, to...with magic?”  
  
“Hmmmm. I did say to come to me willing. But, Stiles, you’re practically begging for it. I’m almost impressed. I expected more resistance.”  He’s close to Stiles now and still so warm in his personal space. “Are you sure you’re ready?”  
  
“I can’t afford to to lose anyone else. If I can help the people I care about, if I can keep them safe, if I can protect...” He nods, tightening his mouth into a thin line. “I’m ready.”  
  
Of course, ready is a relative term, they learn three hours and a few bruises later. The lack of sleep and Adderall is catching up with him and no matter how hard he tries, his focus is shot.  
  
“Sorry!” A table overturns and glass breaks as it hits the floor, sending shards flying everywhere. “Sorry!”  
  
He can see Ethan is getting frustrated, so he takes a deep breath and sinks to the floor. “Ok, quitting time. Before I blow up your house. I’m gonna get a broom and clean this up and slink away in shame and exhaustion and we’ll just never speak of this day again, ok?” He scans the basement and assesses the damage and figures it’s nothing a good hour or five won’t fix.  
  
“You’re not focused, Stiles. Look, maybe you’re not ready to try things on your own yet and that’s fine. This is--”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, advanced stuff. I know.” He rolls his eyes and Ethan joins him on the stone floor.  
  
“Look. You have to...you have to focus everything in one place. Once you get that, everything else falls into place. Here.” He crosses his legs and sits in front of Stiles, motioning for him to do the same. Ethan places his hands palms up on his knees and Stiles copies him, but then Ethan moves his hands to cover Stiles’ and he whispers, “how about fixing that table?”  
  
He listens to Ethan, low and almost relaxing, little words of encouragement now and then and he concentrates on the sound of his voice and the picture of the table in his mind and he’s lost in it again, lost in Ethan’s words and lost in the dizzy feeling he got as soon as Ethan touched him, and everything’s buzzing, like time stopped except for whatever sounds there were at that moment, and Ethan’s squeezing his hands and calling his name and he struggles to open his eyes and Ethan’s laughing, looking around, and as the world comes back into focus he sees that not only is the table upright, but a good deal of the damage is repaired.  
  
“Did that--we--damn.”  Stiles can’t slow his breathing and it’s a good thing he’s already sitting, but before he can catch his breath and his balance, Ethan surges forward and suddenly his lips are on his, pushing and taking and soft against his and Stiles can’t make heads or tails of the situation and the shocked “wha--” he tries to say is swallowed up and comes out a whimper and Ethan takes the in and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue against Stiles’ and he’s gone from breathing too quickly to not breathing at all and Ethan finally breaks it to lean back and gauge his reaction.  
  
“Is it...is it ok? Is it good?” Ethan bites his lip, wide-eyed.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Really good.” It’s all Ethan needs to hear, apparently, as he gets on all fours and crawls closer to Stiles, reclaiming his lips and pushing against him so he has no choice but to unfold his legs and lower himself to the ground.  
  
Ethan stretches himself out over Stiles and explores his throat, his neck, licking, biting, and nuzzling to see what gets the best noises out of him and Stiles lets him indulge, lifting his chin to expose more skin. Stiles reaches up and runs his long fingers through Ethan’s hair and it must be good because he groans and comes back up to kiss him again and they stay like that for a bit, but it becomes all too clear the more they press into each other that there are two urgent matters that require attention.  
  
Stiles can feel Ethan’s erection against his own and there’s already wetness between them staining their jeans. He thrusts up into Ethan, keen to make him very aware of his interest in the situation and Ethan chuckles against his mouth gently as he rolls his hips down in response.  
  
“Hmmm...wanted to do this last night. Didn’t think I’d get you like this so soon, though.”  
  
“Is this why you’ve offered to help me? To sleep with me?”  
  
Ethan rests his chin on Stiles’ chest and looks up at him. “Is that so bad? Stiles, you’re gorgeous. And powerful. It’s a hard combination to resist.” He punctuates his statement by pushing up Stiles’ shirt and licking up his belly to his chest, running the flat of his tongue over a nipple.  
  
Stiles hisses and arches up. It’s so good and still so wrong and maybe that’s why he’s not stopping him, maybe this is what he needs, has needed for awhile. Someone, someone attractive even, wants him. _Him_. Spazzy and human and _Stiles_.  
  
“Stiles, I want to touch you. More. Is that ok?” He can feel Ethan’s hand catch along the button of his jeans.  
  
“Yes. Please!” He should be embarrassed at how breathy it comes out, how desperate he sounds, but his need overshadows any lingering thoughts that he’s practically screaming his declaration of virginity from the mountaintops right now.  
  
Ethan pops the button and works the zipper as Stiles lifts his hips so they slide off easily. His boxers are soaked in the front and that’s another thing he should probably feel embarrassed by, but he can feel Ethan’s hot breath through the fabric and his hands are pushing on his hip bones and he’ll die of sexual frustration before he dies of embarrassment.  
  
“Have you ever done this before, Stiles?” His words send puffs of air over his cock and-- _fuck_ \--why ask now?  
  
“No, but, please, don’t stop for that reason! I’ll be good. I’ll be so, so good, I promise!” He thrusts against Ethan’s restraint and grabs the back of his head.  
  
“Stiles, relax. I’m not stopping, I promise. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or push you too far.” He kneads Stiles’ hips and and finds a better angle between his parted thighs.  
  
“No, no. Push me all you want. Just don’t stop right now, ok?”  
  
“Oh, Stiles.” He sighs with just a hint of amusement. “I’m not stopping until you’re coming down my throat.” And he reaches in the slit of his boxers and he’s rock hard and it twitches in his grip. Ethan seems appreciative of the noises that escape from Stiles as he slides his fist experimentally down the shaft.  
  
“Oh, my Goooooood.” He lets his head drop against the floor and enjoys the feeling of skin on skin, but Ethan has other ideas right now. He pulls Stiles free and before he can whine at the feeling of cool air hitting his cock, Ethan takes him in his mouth and if the feeling of Ethan’s hand on him was amazing, his wet, hot mouth is nothing short of spectacular.  
  
He swirls his tongue around the head and hollows his cheeks, creating delicious suction that threatens to end this way earlier than he wants and Stiles tries to memorize everything he does and how it feels while he still has the attention span. Ethan isn’t playing around, though, and he’s going faster, determined to wreck Stiles thoroughly. Stiles still has a grip on Ethan’s hair and he fists it harder and moans, toes curling as the feeling intensifies.  
  
Ethan moves a hand to the base of his dick and starts to pump in rhythm with his mouth and-- _fuuuck_ \--it’s only a matter of a few more thrusts before his whole body tenses and he’s yelling Ethan’s name and spilling in his mouth and just the sight of Ethan taking it all in and swallowing it down makes him wish he could go again immediately because it’s so fucking hot and he wants to watch Ethan’s swollen, red lips stretch around his cock for days.  
  
Ethan holds him there, in his mouth, until it stops spasming and Stiles’ breaths aren’t so ragged. And in a way, that’s more intimate than what they just did. Stiles props himself up on his elbows and watches Ethan swipe a hand across his mouth.  
  
“That was...oh, my God...can I do that, too, Ethan?” And now he’s taking away two lessons from today.  
  
Ethan looks at him in disbelief. As if he even has to ask. “That fucking gorgeous mouth wrapped around me? It would take a stronger man than I to say no to that, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles is nervous as all hell, but, God, he wants this. He wants to do this and be good at it and Ethan has already given him so much and now it’s his turn.  
  
Ethan lifts himself up and slides into place next to Stiles. Stiles turns to face him and they kiss for a long time and he can taste himself on Ethan’s tongue and it turns him on in new ways he’d never imagined before, he’s emboldened in a way he can’t explain, tasting his own come on another man’s lips, and it gives him enough to push Ethan over to his back and sit up to palm his erection that’s straining through his jeans.  
  
“It’s good, Stiles. Just like that, ok?” He pushes harder into it and Ethan growls. “Yeah...”  
  
Stiles works his jeans off, taking his underwear with them and Ethan’s cock rests against his lower belly, hard and leaking.  He can’t tear his eyes away from it and Ethan must sense his anxiety and reaches for his hand and guides it to him, wrapping his fingers around Stiles’ and making them fist his cock together.  
  
“You’re a healthy young man, Stiles. I know you know what to do for this part.”  
  
Ethan frees his own hand and Stiles continues to slide up and down slowly, watching it react to his touch.  
  
“That’s it, Stiles.” But it’s broken and hitched and it makes Stiles want to do _more_.  
  
It’s now or never and he has to smile because at this time yesterday he hadn’t even gotten to first base and now he’s soundly rounding third in the span of an hour.  
  
He adjusts himself so he can lean over Ethan and snuggle into his belly, trying not to break the rhythm with his hand.  A drop of pre-come leaks out of Ethan and Stiles tentatively leans in more to lick it off and Ethan groans and squeezes his shoulder and it’s salty and hot, but not awful. He parts his lips and lets the just the head slip in.  
  
“Oh, fuck, Stiles! So good! Can you give me more?” Stiles complies and takes in a little more and a little more until it bumps the back of his mouth and Ethan is whimpering, cursing, panting, and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.  
  
He tries to copy what Ethan had done to him, using his tongue and his hand to help him feel good and he’s rewarded with Ethan’s fingers pressing into his skin as he cries out his name and works his way to Stiles’ head, holding it gently, keeping it in place.  
  
“Mmmm....Stiles. You’ve got it. That’s perfect, Stiles. Fuck. You’re gonna make me come, Stiles. God, I’m so close. Will you let me come in your mouth? Oh, God, please say yes! Please!” How anyone could say no to that is beyond him. Stiles nods and Ethan exhales in what sounds like massive relief.  
  
“Oh, God! Mmmmmm, Stiles, right now! I can’t--God, I’m gonna come--” and Stiles feels Ethan’s cock jerk in his mouth and fill it with hot come and he tries his best to swallow it down, but, like with magic, he’s just starting and some does escape out his mouth and fall back on Ethan and he doesn’t seem to care as he throws his head back and breathes through the aftershocks.  
  
“Stiles, that was incredible! What did I tell you? The rush is so much more amazing the more magic you can do. Was I right?”  
  
Stiles rolls back over and rests on the floor beside Ethan. “Yeah, that was pretty awesome!”  
  
They lay there for a few more minutes before Ethan stands and dresses. He offers Stiles a hand to stand up and he, too, puts his clothes back on.  
  
“So what do we do now?”  
  
Ethan pulls him in for a kiss. “Now, we go back to our lesson until we can’t go on anymore and we have more sex and learn more and have more sex until we collapse and then we shower and I sneak you in to see your dad. Deal?”  
  
These “deals” are getting easier and easier to agree to. It doesn’t bother him right now that he’s not wondering about that.  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

And so it goes for the rest of the day. Ethan teaches, Stiles tries, and when he gets it right, Ethan rewards him. They kiss, they touch, Stiles learns he really likes when someone bites his earlobes and he finds he has a thing for hipbones, and occasionally they stop to eat to keep up their strength.  
  
It’s after dark, probably after midnight, and Stiles manages to heal a nasty cut he got from a shard of glass that lay forgotten on the floor and Ethan is so impressed he backs him against the wall, pins his wrists above his head and ruts against him, managing somehow to get them both naked below the waist so he can take both of them in one hand and jerk them off together, and Stiles comes first; his legs feel like rubber and Ethan watches him come like he’s a painting in a museum and he wants to squeeze his eyes shut and ride the feeling, but Ethan’s reactions to him are so hot he doesn’t want to miss them, and Ethan forces his come into his hand so he can use it to slick himself up more, and he’s coming seconds later. He never breaks eye contact then, either, staring right at him as his mouth parts and he groans as he paints Stiles’ belly with come.  
  
And as good as it is, as good as it all is, Stiles is tired and sticky and gross and he really wants to check on his dad. He knows from the lack of phone calls that nothing big has happened. The only activity on his phone is an incessant string of texts from Scott wondering where he is and what he’s up to.  
  
“You mind if I take a shower?” Running with Scott and the rest of the pack has made him more prepared than a Boy Scout. He’s got at least a week’s worth of clean clothes in his Jeep and there’s no way he’s going to his father’s bedside stinking of sex.

“Not if I can join you.” Ethan looks exhausted, too.

Ethan’s shower is big enough for two and there’s plenty of hot water to go around, and Stiles may be tired and completely wrecked, but he can’t stop himself from taking the soap and lathering up a completely naked and willing Ethan. Ethan returns the favor and even washes his hair. They slide against each other, slippery and wet, kissing under the spray for a few minutes. Stiles wishes he could go again because he’s getting better at sex, too, and it’s still brand new and awesome and he has so much lost time to make up for.  But he knows he has to give himself some recovery time or he’s going to break it before he really gets the chance to use it.

Ethan shuts off the water and turns Stiles around, kisses the back of his neck and massages down his spine with strong fingers. He caresses the smooth curve of his bottom and dips in between as he licks the water from his shoulder.

“God, Stiles. I really want to fuck you soon.” He presses in a little deeper; Stiles can feel him _right there_. “I mean, like, really fuck you. Wanna watch myself disappear into that gorgeous ass of yours.”

Stiles moans and braces a hand against the shower wall.

“Not until you’re ready, though. I want you to enjoy it just as much as I know I’m going to.”

Thankfully, before either one of them loses control, Ethan moves his hand away, wraps his arm around Stiles’ waist, and pushes at him so he is facing him again.

 He continues licking and sucking at the water droplets on Stiles’ skin, stopping every now and then to bite a little, and Stiles finds himself scratching up and down Ethan’s side. Every catch of his nails on his skin earns him a sharper rake of teeth along the spot where his shoulder and neck meet. He hisses at the feeling and responds to it by scratching harder.

“You like _this_ , too?” He leans back and runs his fingers over the spot where his mouth just was. “Mmmm…I like seeing my work on your skin. If I could mark your entire body I would. I want everyone to know what we did and how lucky I am that you let me. And it doesn’t hurt that you taste so fucking good.”

He buries his face one last time in the crook of his neck and scrapes his teeth down and across his collarbone until he finds soft flesh and bites hard, and, yeah, _it hurts_ , but Ethan soothes it with his tongue and his lips and the combination of pain and pleasure and the incredible feeling that someone _wants him_ is making him crazy. It breaks the skin slightly, but not enough to draw blood, and it leaves an odd purple-red mark that he can’t stop staring at and touching when he catches a glimpse of it in the mirror as they step out.

 

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” He’s toweled off and slipping into a fresh pair of jeans and a striped hoodie.

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. It’s not an exact science, magic. Obviously. But last night I felt how strong he is and how much he’s fighting to get better. He’s like you, I think. Doesn’t quit easily.” Ethan slides on a tight shirt and he fills it out nicely. Very nicely. He wonders just who exactly is the lucky one here.

  
Ethan keeps true to his word and sneaks him in behind the weekend 3rd shift nurses’ backs and Stiles is pleased to see that he is breathing on his own now and just an IV and a few monitors remain.

“He’s still healing, Stiles. It takes a lot out of a person to do that normally and your dad is basically growing part of a new lung. He’ll be awake soon, I promise.” His hand rests on Stiles’ shoulder as he looks stricken at his father’s weak form. “You really should get some sleep, though. As much as I hate to say it, in your own bed would be best. You’ve taken a lot out of yourself today as well and I’d like you in top form for the next time we meet.”

Ethan cups Stiles’ chin and pulls him in for a soft kiss. “I’ll see you later, ok? After you catch up on sleep?”

“Yeah…after some sleep. Should I come to your house or—“

“I’ll find you, Stiles. Don’t worry about that now.” He motions the need to leave before the nurses start with their rounds again and Stiles pats his father’s hand and whispers goodbye in his ear before standing up and following Ethan out the door.

One last kiss outside the room and Ethan practically orders him home and he’s too tired to argue, even though he doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

 

His house is dark as he pulls in. He never turned on any lights because he never expected the day to end up as it did. He fumbles for his house key and stumbles inside, ready to crash on the nearest soft surface, but there’s enough lingering magic heightening his senses that he absolutely knows without a doubt that someone else is in the house with him.

He takes a sharp inhale and focuses everything on the sensation.

Derek.

 Derek is in his house. In his room. Waiting for him. And he’s pissed.

Well, more pissed than usual.

There’s no way to catch him by surprise and he really just wants to sleep, so he trudges up the stairs and calls out to Derek as he ascends. “Derek? Look, Derek. I’m really tired and I just want to sleep, so if it can wait, I’d appreciate you coming back later so you can be all grumpypants at me when I’m emotionally prepared for it, ok?”

He swings open his bedroom door and Derek’s still there, obviously, because when does he ever listen to anything Stiles has to say, and before he can reach for the light switch in hopes that Derek will scatter like a cockroach when he’s hit with bright light, he’s shoved against a wall for the second time in so many hours. But this time it’s not as pleasant.

Hell, who is he kidding? It’s probably more pleasant even if it does hurt like hell.

“How did you know I was here?” Derek’s growling his words and he’s so close to Stiles he can feel his breath on his face.  “And where the hell were you all day?”

“Whoa, Derek—" _Shit._ He’d make the worst secret spy ever with the way he runs off at the mouth. There’s no way he can explain away how he knew Derek was there. _Stupid._

“No, way, Stiles. You weren’t at the hospital and you weren’t here. You didn’t answer a single text from Scott all day and now you waltz in here in the middle of the night and somehow know I’m here like it’s nothing?” Derek stares at Stiles and in an instant his face changes. There’s a sliver of something that passes across his face and whatever it is makes his eyes go wide and before Stiles can think of an explanation, Derek buries his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck and—oh—that rush hasn’t fully left his body yet because Derek inhales and the tickle on his skin goes straight to his dick, and of course Derek is going to smell that sharp tang of arousal because, fuck, he already smells it on himself.

He closes his eyes and lets his head go lax against the door behind him, not even caring about the whimper that escapes or the not subtle at all jerk of his hips into Derek’s rock hard form. He is ready for something, anything, because the rules have changed and he’s not the Stiles he was a day ago, but there’s a palpable change in the air around them and Derek growls as he grabs Stiles by the neck and holds his head against the door that way.

 Stiles opens his eyes to see Derek in the beginning stages of completely wolfing out. His eyes are glowing, giving an eerie hue to everything in the room—including his rapidly descending fangs.

Derek pulls at Stiles’ shirt with his free hand and growls even louder when he sees the mark Ethan left on him in the shower. He traces his claw around it, still growling, but now low and threatening.

“Derek?” It’s been a long time since he felt any kind of genuine fear around him.

“Stiles, what the hell did you do?” He snarls the words and there’s anger there he can’t figure out.

Stiles reaches for Derek, but Derek backs away, his mouth parted like something inside him wants to bite, to absolutely tear into Stiles, but each incredibly stupid step Stiles takes toward Derek, is another step Derek takes away from him.

“Derek--” He tries again, tries to get some sense out of the situation, but Derek turns and is out the window.

Stiles is finally alone, fingering the mark on his shoulder and wondering what the hell just happened.  So much for sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter than normal, but I wanted to try to get an update in this weekend before all the weekend plans kick in!


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a tossing, turning night after that. He _needs_ sleep. Every part of him needs rest--physically, mentally, emotionally, but whatever happened between him and Derek won’t let him relax enough to actually get some.

The change was not voluntary. Anger fueled it, obviously, but why? Something to do with the mark on his neck?  In all their time knowing each other, Stiles has never managed to get Derek worked up so much that he threatened to change like that. And he’s done a lot to piss him off, so why would a simple hickey finally break him? The last time Stiles checked, fantasizing about someone while jerking off does not equal a relationship or he and Lydia would probably be common law spouses at this point, so Derek has no right to say what he does and with whom.

It feels like it should make sense, but it doesn’t. He needs sleep to make sense of anything.

He finally gives up around six and trudges downstairs to make some coffee and call to check on his dad. The nurse tells him the doctors are very confident that he’ll awaken soon and that they continue to be impressed with his progress and that the temporary sheriff has given them a very sternly worded request that Stiles be allowed to visit whenever he wants and to please let the Sheriff know that he knows that.

He thanks the nurse and promises to do just that, but he needs to take care of things with Scott first. And get some answers.

Six thirty is too early to wake up Scott, but he’s going to do it anyway. But he’s at least nice enough to bring over some of his coffee as a sort of peace offering. And if he wakes himself up a little more by at least attempting to use a little magic to measure the grounds and pour the coffee into the thermos, well, it’s good practice, right?

Scott's mom’s car isn’t in the driveway, so he enters Scott’s house the usual way: the window, and he wonders if anyone in Beacon Hills under 25 even knows how to use a door.

Scott is thankfully in his boxers and thankfully not hiding Allison in his bed. He’s snoring lightly and Stiles unceremoniously plops down next to him like he always has since they were kids. In the early days it would take Stiles jumping up and down on the bed to get him to wake up, but since the bite, it usually only takes a sniff or two of food or coffee to get the same effect.

Today, however, Scott’s eyes fly open before he can reach for the thermos.

“Dude. You smell…you smell different. Why do you smell different?” He sits up and sniffs closer.

“What do I smell like?” He lets Scott sniff him all over, not even caring that it should be awkward to have your best friend sniff you. Is it sex he smells? Sex and Ethan and is this really how he’s going to tell his best friend that he’s mostly not a virgin anymore?

“You smell…jeez…What is that? You don’t smell like you. Well, you smell like you, but there’s something else. And I feel like I shouldn’t touch you. This is so weird! Does this have something to do with where you were yesterday?”

“Like you shouldn’t touch me? And, no, I was…I just had to get some time alone yesterday.” He backs up a little away from Scott. This is more than Scott smelling Ethan and sex on him. Is this what Derek sensed, too?

 “Yeah, like, there’s something around you. Like an invisible shield or something that really doesn’t want me to get close. Where did you go yesterday? I mean, I want to believe you and everything, but you didn’t smell like this at the hospital Friday night.”

He wants to tell Scott everything. He should tell Scott everything. This is big news. The first time Scott and Allison had sex he was over at his house grinning like a moron, practically bursting at the seams to tell Stiles. This should be no different, but the way Scott is reacting to him, the way Derek reacted to him makes him hesitate. He needs more answers.

“Scott, tell me, how does it make you feel when you see this?” He pulls his shirt collar down to expose the still purple mark. Scotts eyes go wide, but not in the dude-I’m-so-happy-for-you way.

“Whoa!” Scott backs away quickly. “That…that makes me feel like I shouldn’t touch you even more. What the hell is that?”

Stiles’ mind is racing. Something is definitely not right here. He grabs Scott’s hand and places it on the mark and Scott immediately recoils as if he’s been burnt and his eyes are glowing.

And now it’s Stiles’ turn to beat a hasty retreat. He stumbles backwards to the window and climbs out, ignoring Scott’s angry growl for him to come back.

He hits the ground and runs to his Jeep and there’s a confused panic that takes over and doesn’t stop until he’s pulling up to Ethan’s house a half hour later.

He bangs on the door. “Ethan! Ethan are you home? I need to talk to you, please, Ethan!”  

Ethan finally opens the door and he’s dressed only in a pair of low slung jeans. He looks alarmed, but ushers Stiles in quickly.

“Stiles, what is it? Are you ok? Is it your dad?” He’s got his hands on Stiles’ shoulders, steadying him.

“No, no, my dad’s fine, but Ethan, I have to know something. When you bit me last night, did it do anything to me? Is there something magical about it?”

Ethan’s chuckle is probably meant to put him at ease, but he’s not giving up until he has answers. “Oh, Stiles. I should have said something before, I think. Did you really think all the magic and sex wouldn’t have some side effects? We’ve been casting spells and sharing all this supernatural energy and getting pretty intimate with each other while all that energy is present. It’s normal, so to speak. I kind of got carried away, though, last night, and went a little too far and I apologize for that, but it’s only temporary. I kind of…marked you. Claimed you magically. It’s complicated to explain fully, but anyone who is attracted to you kind of gets this signal to leave you alone.”

Stiles knits his eyebrows together and takes this information in.

Ethan pulls him in closer. “Oh, no, Stiles. Was it someone you didn’t expect to have feelings for you?”

Stiles nods. Scott? Derek? It doesn’t make sense.

“Stiles, you’re going to have to accept that you are gorgeous. And you’re so intelligent and brave and, God, Stiles, who wouldn’t want you?”

 _Everyone ever before you, if my dating history tells the truth._ Ethan cups his chin and brings him in for a sweet kiss. “No offense to your friends, but if not one of them has ever acted on their feelings for you, they have to be completely stupid.” He takes Stiles’ hand. “Come on, Stiles. I want you to see what I see when I look at you.”

He leads Stiles into a good sized, but Spartan bedroom. Stiles thinks he can guess where this is going, but Ethan surprises him by completely ignoring the spacious bed in favor of a full-length mirror mounted on the opposite wall.

He stands Stiles in front of it and moves behind him. “Look, Stiles. Look at yourself. Tell me one thing you can see that isn’t perfect.” He wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist and pushes at his shirt, exposing the flat of his belly. His fingers trace his skin as he lifts his shirt up more and Stiles lifts his arms so he can take it off.  Ethan’s breath hitches as he presses into Stiles’ naked back and explores every curve and dip of muscle. His expert fingers catch on his nipples and Stiles lets his head fall back against Ethan’s shoulder.

“No, Stiles. I want you to watch. Watch yourself. Watch us together. We’re so good together, Stiles. I want you to see with your own eyes just how beautiful you are like this.”

Stiles obeys his gentle demand and lifts his head to look at them together and Ethan makes sure his head stays up by kissing the back of his neck so he has to keep it upright.

And, God, they are beautiful together.

Ethan reaches down and unbuttons Stiles’ jeans with one hand and starts pushing them and his boxers down. His head disappears behind Stiles’ back as he kisses his way down his spine with every push downwards. Stiles’ dutifully steps out of them, kicking off his shoes as he does and he stands before the mirror naked. Naked and very hard. Ethan keeps kissing down, making it to his ass, and his tongue traces the shape of it down to where it meets the back of his thighs.

“I trust that you’re still watching.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I am, Ethan. I promise.” He’s trying his hardest, at least.

“Good,” Ethan purrs. He works his way back up, taking his time. He feels almost guilty he’s not doing any of the work right now.

Ethan pulls away long enough to remove his own jeans and then presses his erection into Stiles’ back. “You see what you do to me?”

Stiles watches as Ethan holds out his hand and concentrates for a moment and a small bottle of some kind of oil appears out of nowhere in his palm.

“Wha—“

“Sshhhh…what’s the point of magic if you can’t use it for fun now and then?” He pours a little of the oil in his hands and the bottle disappears.

His now slick hand reaches around, wraps around his cock, sliding from tip to base slowly, torturously, and Stiles groans and tries to keep his eyes open for Ethan.

He can feel Ethan slicking himself up behind him and he lets go so it can slide against his skin, his ass, slipping between it and rubbing against him in just the right spot.

He fists him faster and Stiles is shaking a little because it feels too good. A flush is creeping over his chest, his neck, and his pupils are completely blown.

“Yeah, you like what you see, don’t you?” Stiles responds by thrusting against Ethan and then jerking his hips so he pushes further into his hand.

“Oh, God, Stiles. You know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”

Stiles parts his lips to say something, but a moan escapes instead and Ethan matches it with one of his own and pushes a finger against Stiles’ mouth until Stiles sucks it in. He licks at it, swirling his tongue around it in a great imitation of his newly learned blow job skills, and it just makes Ethan thrust harder against him.

“Yeah, just like that…” A second finger joins the first. “Look at how red your lips are. You were made for sucking cock, Stiles. Did you enjoy sucking mine?”

Stiles nods and whimpers around his fingers.

“Yeah, you were so amazing, Stiles. Are you going to come for me? I can feel you’re close. Don’t stop watching, ok? I want you to see your gorgeous face when you come.” He takes his fingers away and braces his arm against Stiles’ chest to steady him.

His orgasm hits like electricity or lightning striking. Every nerve, every cell is on fire and the tingle rushes through him, hitting every part of him. He tenses, breathes in shallow, hitched breaths, and vaguely hears Ethan begging him to keep his eyes open. He watches his face, the way his lips form around the noises he makes, the way his eyes go wide, and the way the tendons in his neck pull his skin taut there. Ethan lets the head of his cock thrust through his fist so he can watch himself come and it’s so good, so intense, he ends up coming on the mirror itself.

This serves to make Ethan thrust against him faster and sloppier and the pressure against his ass makes the aftershocks more intense than he’s ever felt. It’s not long, maybe three or four more thrusts, before Ethan cries out and comes thick, messy ropes against his ass and he watches Ethan’s face, too, as he comes.

When he can breathe again, he turns Stiles back around and pulls him in for a deep kiss.

“What did I tell you? Gorgeous.”

He leads them both to the bed and Stiles flops down, beyond exhausted at this point, and all thoughts of Scott and Derek and any lingering unanswered questions and missing puzzle pieces have long since flown out of his brain.

Ethan slides in next to him, covers him up with the light sheet at the foot of the bed, and massages his skin lightly as he finally drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up if you think Derek is going to like this one bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay! My whole gymnasium has been passing around a cold and now it's my turn to have it. I come to you today full of cough medicine and Gatorade!

Some time later, he manages to creak one eye open and it’s dark outside. He’s alone in the bed, still naked, and he really has to pee. There’s no clock in the bedroom and a cursory search for his phone in the sliver of light that emanates from the hallway comes up empty.

He does find his boxers, though, and hobbles to the bathroom to take care of business. His mouth feels like death and he knows there is a toothbrush somewhere in the Jeep, but a finger and some toothpaste will have to do until he can see fewer than 20 fingers on his hand.

He can hear voices coming from downstairs--two men, Ethan and someone unfamiliar. He can’t quite make out what they are saying, but it’s an intense conversation.

 Stiles was not expecting someone else in the house when he walked out in just his boxers, so he retreats back to the bedroom and tugs on his jeans and t-shirt as best he can in the dark, but he’s so fuzzy he trips a bit on the last leg and fumbles onto the edge of the bed, sliding off and hitting the carpet with a dull thud. The voices stop momentarily and Stiles struggles to stand up again, damning his lack of grace.

He pads down the hallway in his bare feet, hoping to catch the mystery man, but it’s just Ethan at the kitchen table with two cups of coffee and some bacon and eggs. He grins at Stiles as he walks over.

“I—uh…I heard voices.” Ethan motions for him to sit down and eat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I was Skyping with my brother. He’s been itching to get up here and go hunting, so he might come up mid-week to check things out. I didn’t mean to wake you. Actually, I’m surprised you slept this long.”

“What time is it?” The food and the coffee are hot and an urgent reminder that he hasn’t eaten much since Friday.

“It’s about 5:30.” Ethan shovels more eggs onto Stiles’ plate, which disappear just as quickly as the first round.

Stiles drinks some more coffee, but pauses mid-sip. “5:30? It’s awfully dark for 5:30.”

Ethan chuckles. “It’s Monday morning, Stiles. You kind of slept away the rest of Sunday.”

“Oh, sh—“ He has school in two hours.

“It’s OK. You needed it. You needed it _a lot._ I tried to wake you around six last night, but you were not having it. And it doesn’t help that you look so vulnerable when you sleep. If I didn’t know you were sleep deprived….”

“You’d what?” He can miss first period. No one would think twice with what happened on Friday. Actually, he should probably go by the hospital before school.

“Mmmm…kinda have this fantasy where I wake you up by sucking you off…slip under the sheet and crawl to you…take you in my mouth and wait for you to wake up enough to know what’s going on. You’d be so relaxed and warm…are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed?”

“I kinda have to go to school and I should run by the hospital before I go. Ummm…I couldn’t find my phone….”

Ethan reaches behind him to the breakfast bar and hands him his phone. “I didn’t want it waking you unless it was an emergency. I hope you don’t mind. The hospital didn’t call or anything like that.”

Stiles takes the phone and checks his messages. Nothing. Nothing from Scott or Derek. Weird. He shoves it in his pocket and doesn’t think about no one looking for him.

“Can I come back after school or…do you have work or something?” He prays he doesn’t sound as awkward as he feels, wondering if he’s invited back after practically taking up residence here the entire weekend.

“As it so happens, I work the 8-5 shift today. I would love nothing more than to spend the evening with you. In fact…wait here for a minute, ok?” Ethan disappears upstairs for a minute while Stiles finishes off the rest of his breakfast.

He comes back down with a folded t-shirt and places it in front of Stiles. “I want you thinking of me when you’re gone today. I want you to look at yourself today and see that you’re wearing my shirt and I want you to think of all the things I want to do to you later. Will you wear this for me?”

Stiles unfolds the shirt. It’s dark red, plain, but cut to be form fitting. He holds it up to his face and inhales and it smells like expensive detergent and some lingering _Ethan_ -ness.

Ethan leans in behind him and whispers in his ear, “When I take it off you tonight, it’s going to smell like you. Do you know how crazy that makes me just thinking about you wearing my clothes?” He stands Stiles up and pulls at the hem of the shirt he’s wearing. “Will you do it?”

Stiles raises his arms so Ethan can undress him and slide on the red shirt instead. When Ethan stands back to admire him, Stiles can’t help but worry that someone looking at him like that might get addictive. He looks…predatory. Possessive. Hungry. And Stiles is willing to submit to anything Ethan wants and it feels so good to be wanted like this. It probably isn’t healthy. But neither is running with wolves. Wolves, who, strangely, don’t care if he’s dead or alive.

“Oh, God, Stiles.” Ethan breathes out. “God, you have no idea how turned on I am seeing you in that. You need to…Stiles, if you want to make it to school on time, you need to leave now or I am not letting you go out like that before I fuck you senseless.”

_Tempting._ But also, _Chemistry Test._

 

He sits with his dad for a long time before school. At one point, while Stiles is reading the sports scores to him (“Dad, I don’t know how to tell you this, but the Raiders lost. To the Dolphins, dad. The Dolphins. Doesn’t that make you angry enough to wake up?”), the Sheriff groans and murmurs.

“Stiles?” It’s cracked and strained, but it’s…it’s _life_.

Stiles’ eyes go wide and he drops the paper and rushes to get closer. “Yeah, dad? I’m here.”

“Stiles.” He breathes and it sounds like relief. “Stiles.”

Stiles grabs his hand and squeezes. “I’m here, dad. I’m fine and you’re going to be fine and you’re going to have so much to yell at me for when you get better, I promise.”

“Good boy.” He squeezes back and it’s stronger than it was before. He lets his dad hold his hand for as long as he can before the threat of being late for school is on him.

“Dad, I have to go to school now. I’m coming back this afternoon, though. You keep getting better and when you wake up I’m getting you a steak and I won’t even make you eat vegetables with it, ok?”  He gives him a final squeeze and a kiss on his forehead and walks out.

There have been any number of deputies milling about his wing and no one’s saying much, but with the asshole who shot him still on the run, Stiles has to wonder if it’s not for protection as much as it loyalty. He eagerly shares the good news with one of them on the way out and runs outside as quickly as he can to text Scott about it.

**Dude, dad said my name! I think he’s close to waking up!**

He tosses his phone in the passenger seat and heads to school, not caring that he didn’t study for his test. His dad is really going to be ok.

He contemplates texting Ethan, but pauses when he realizes he doesn’t actually know his number. He wonders about that for a minute before shrugging it off. He’ll get it later. And he’ll be at the hospital in an hour to see for himself, right?

He parks the Jeep in the parking lot and goes off to search for Scott. He doesn’t want to deal with what Ethan told him about Scott’s feelings right now. He needs his best friend. And maybe there has always been some attraction between them and that’s something to face at some point, but now is not that time. Derek, however, might keep him up at night with curiosity.

He checks the locker room or anywhere Allison might be, but has no luck. He’s just about to give up and go on to class when Scott grabs him from behind in the bathroom and slams him up against the cold tile. _Or, we can deal with his feelings now._

“Stiles, what the hell! I texted you and called you _all day_ yesterday after you disappeared! Derek and I looked for you until three this morning! And you have the balls to come to school acting like nothing happened!” His eyes are glowing again and Stiles can see his fangs descending a bit.

“What? There’s nothing on my phone, I swear! I didn’t know! Calm down, Scott!” But Scott is sniffing him again.

“Stiles, you still smell strange! I don’t know what it is but when I get near you I get really freaked out and whose shirt are you wearing, hmmm? This is not one of yours! I can totally smell that this is someone else’s!”

_Ok, maybe a half truth will save me?_ “Scott, I…ok, let me go and I’ll tell you, ok?”

Scott releases the death grip on his shirt collar and takes a step back. “This better be good, Stiles.”

“I met someone.” He cocks his head to the side and raises his eyebrows like it’s no big thing.

Scott blinks and looks him up and down and there’s an instant change in his entire body. His face softens into some kind of cross between pride and curiosity and goofy happiness for him.

“Stiles! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stiles breathes in. There’s nothing wrong with revealing a little bit, right? Just leave out the magic. And the easiness with which he gave it up to Ethan. And the fact he doesn’t know Ethan’s last name. And…

“I don’t know. It’s…new, I guess. Very new.”

“Is that where you were yesterday? With him? Is this what I’m getting off you?” There are a thousand questions going through Scott’s head right now and Stiles can see every one of them pass in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, but, I was sleeping, mostly, to be honest. It’s been a hard couple of days, if you recall.”

The “oh, shit” look creeps across Scott’s face. “Oh, my God, Stiles! I’m so sorry! I’ve been so obsessed with this…change in you, that I’ve been such an ass about your problems! God, I’m the worst best friend!”

_No, I am. Why am I keeping this from Scott, again? He won’t freak out. He’s my best friend and I know about the wolf. Why shouldn’t he know about the magic?_ Things seem so clear when he’s not distracted by Ethan.The bell rings loudly in the bathroom and interrupts his thoughts.

“Look, Scott. There are some things I need to tell you. Things…happened over the weekend and I think they might answer some questions you have. Can we…I’ll come over tonight. Tell you everything, I promise.”

Scott raises an eyebrow. “Ok, Stiles, but I think you should know that Derek is on the warpath trying to find you and he won’t tell me why. I’ve never seen him worked up into a lather like this before. I asked him about it and said to do my job trying to find you, but, all Derek-like. You should really check in with him. I think it has something to do with the strange feelings I’m getting when I’m around you. He’s been muttering to himself about all the really painful things he wants to do to you when he finds you.”

“Yeah, that gives me incentive to be found.”  He rolls his eyes out of annoyance as much as trepidation. He’s not even a real part of the Pack and he spends more time pissing off the Alpha than any of the other members combined. And eventually, Derek is going to have to figure out the weird feelings are because of the magic and…feelings and…wow, he’s in a mess now, isn’t he?

Scott grins. “Yeah, but, dude, I’m happy for you. I want to meet him, ok? Let’s get to class and you can tell me all about it later.”

Stiles half smiles back, wondering how he exactly he’s going to explain everything.

 

He slides into homeroom with something like .03 seconds to spare before morning announcements (and the start of his teacher handing out detentions slips). There’s one seat in the back and it’s next to Jessica.

Jessica, who skips class whenever she wants and is currently sporting an impressive 1.7 GPA. Jessica, who routinely beats the crap out of both girls and boys and spends more time in detention and suspended than not. Jessica, who has been not so subtly hinting that she would like Stiles to ask her to the dance on Friday. As in, “You’re going to be my date, Stilinski. Or else.”

He hadn’t quite figured out a safe and polite way to tell her she is not quite his type, but  now he is seeing someone. For real. He’s still terrified of her, though.

He sits down at the desk in the back and looks straight ahead, pretending to be _very_ interested in the pep rally coming up. Jessica attempts to get his attention in a sort of yelling-whisper.

“Stilinski! Stilinski! Have you come to the right decision about Friday yet?”

Stiles purses his lips and drums his fingers on the desk.

“STILINSKI. I don’t take no for an answer!” She punches him on the arm and even though it’s probably a light tap for her, it feels like she’s been taking boxing lessons from Mohammed Ali.

“Ow! Look, Jessica, I’m flattered you like me and all, really, but I’m kind of seeing someone, ok?” He rubs at what will surely be a bruise.

Jessica’s eyes narrow, she leans in close, and pokes a finger into his chest. “When she breaks your heart, Stilinski—and she will—I might not be here to fix it for you. I’m not going to wait around forever.”

Stiles tries to flatten himself into the side of his desk. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jessica.”

She leans in even closer. “See that you do. I don’t give my heart to just anyone, Stilinski.”

“That’s—that’s oddly sweet, Jessica. Coming from—Wait. You have feelings for me?”

Jessica blinks slowly. “Duh, Stilinski. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been s—“

“And how do you feel about me right now? I mean, how do you feel right now, looking at me?” _Wheels. Turning._

“Like I want to kiss you and then punch you for being so stupid. I mean, you have better grades than me and you’re acting like you—“

“You don’t have a problem touching me? You’re this close and you don’t feel like you should maybe back up or walk away?”

“Stilinski, what the hell are you talking about? I—“

With strength he shouldn’t have, he pushes Jessica back and stands up. “I have to go.”

He grabs his stuff and runs out of the classroom.

Jessica didn’t freak out near him. And Jessica admitted to having feelings for him. Jessica still wanted him when she got near. Only Scott and Derek have reacted badly near him. It’s like…

Homeroom is letting out and he snakes through the throng of people until he finds a voice of reason.

“Isaac!”

Isaac looks startled. “Whoa.” He leans in to sniff and, predictably, worryingly, pushes away quickly. “You…what is wrong with you? Man, I…whoa. Like—“

“Isaac, sorry for this, but…” He grabs Isaac’s hand and places it on the mark on his shoulder and Isaac pulls away immediately and stumbles back.

“OK. OK. Isaac. Don’t take this the wrong way, but have you ever in your life wanted to kiss me?”

Isaac’s mouth rounds out to form a confused “what,” but his eyes say it all.

“That’s all I needed to know. Thanks, Isaac.” Stiles pushes through the crowd and doesn’t stop until he reaches his Jeep.

 

Werewolves.

It’s not people who are attracted to him who are affected.

 It’s werewolves.

_Fuuuuuuuuck._

He fumbles with shaky hands for his keys. Nothing is adding up now. Nothing. He pushes the key in the lock and starts to turn it, but a rock solid mass slams against the door before he can open it.

_Derek._

“Hello, Stiles.” Derek is grinning like he’s found a new toy to play with. “You’re going to introduce me to your new friend.”

Stiles swallows hard and nods. Derek nods along with him. “Yeah, Stiles. You’ve been keeping a pretty big secret from me and I figured it out. Take me there. _Now._ ”

_Oh, I am so fucked._


	6. Chapter 6

Derek grabs his keys and takes the driver’s seat, forcing Stiles to sit on his own passenger side, but Derek is not fucking around and protesting is useless. He cranks the engine and looks to Stiles with a look he can only describe as murderous impatience.

“Where does he live, Stiles?”

“He said he has to work at the hospital today from—“

That earns him a head slam into the dash and Derek must have been practicing because it hurts more than the last time he did it. Derek’s fingers tighten around his neck as they hold him down.

“You really think he works at the hospital, Stiles? His house. Where. Does. He. Live.”

“OK! OK! Just, let me go, alright?” Derek lets him up and Stiles reaches up to feel the knot forming on his forehead. “Just…turn left up here and make the first right.”

No one speaks for a few minutes, leaving Stiles to try to make sense of the whole situation, but Derek must sense him thinking hard and interrupts him.

“How long were you planning on keeping this a secret? Once I figured out that smell on you and why I couldn’t come too near you, everything fell into place. I can’t believe _you_ of all people, Stiles. We could have given you everything you wanted and you just…why not come to me? To us? Why did you betray me like this?”

“I really don’t see how it has anything to do with you. It’s not your business what I do and who I do it with. What are you really angry about, Derek? That un-special Stiles has power of his own? That I went off and learned about magic myself, without consulting the almighty Derek first, or that someone in this town saw my potential and found me worthy of their attention? I’m really glad you have it all figured out, but I would really like it if you shared it with me here!”

Derek pulls over abruptly, spinning the wheels in the dirt and gravel until the Jeep grinds to a halt. He turns to Stiles and his eyes are red and there is a definite danger of him wolfing out completely as he grabs Stiles by the collar of his (Ethan’s) shirt and yanks him closer.

“Or, the fact that you’ve been doing all that with another god damned _Alpha_.”

 

Stiles’ eyes go wide as his jaw drops. He shakes his head in disbelief as much as protest. “No. No no no. That’s not possible! No! He healed my dad and he taught me how to get better at magic and….” All the things he’s done with Ethan. All the things. It can’t be true because that means….

Derek shoves his shirt fabric aside. “Then what the hell is this, Stiles? He marked you!”

_The mark._ “He…he said it was something magical. That it was a claim on me and that he did it by accident. But—“

“But, what?”

“But it only seems to repel werewolves. You. Scott. Isaac. That’s why I was going to my car in the first place: to try to find him and get some answers.” Stiles bows his head in resignation. This is bad. He can’t even begin to count the ways he’s screwed things up. He’s been marked by an Alpha. Had sex with an Alpha.

Derek softens. “You really didn’t know.” It’s not a question. Actually, it sounds like relief.

“No, Derek, I swear. I would never have, if….”

“Take me to him, Stiles. I’m going to take care of this.” He releases Stiles and throws the car in drive.

“What are you going to do?” He blinks slowly, running through all the things he did with Ethan.

“I’m going to kill him.”

 

 

They ride in relative silence after that, Stiles only speaking to tell him where to turn between long thoughts of just exactly how he got himself in this whole mess in the first place.

“Stay in the car. This won’t take long. And then you and I are going to have a _very_ long conversation about mysterious strangers in this town.” Derek slams the door behind him, walks to the front door, and cleanly kicks it down.

Stiles has never been good at following directions and it’s no different where Derek is concerned. He can help. He knows he can. He hops out and closes the door as softly as he can and rounds the back of the Jeep.

Where Ethan is there to greet him.

He’s grinning, sick and toothy; like he’s daring Stiles to try to run.

 “Stiles. Just in time.”

He shoves Stiles against the back of the Jeep with one hand and he’s calm and smiling the whole time.

Stiles can hear the sounds of a struggle in the house. There are crashes and growls and someone is breaking glass. He can’t tell who is winning. Or, rather, who Derek’s fighting. He strains his neck a bit to try to look in through the doorway, but Ethan steps in front of him, blocking his view.

“It’s nothing.”

“But, who—“

Ethan runs a finger down Stiles’ cheek. “I told you my brothers come when the hunting is good.” He leans in close and his breath is hot on Stiles’ ear. “Well, the hunting is _very_ good.”

Stiles breathes out. “Derek said you’re a wolf…an Alpha.”

“He’s not wrong. And you played your part admirably. But, Stiles, I need one more thing from you.”

Stiles is breathing fast and shallow, every breath thrusts his chest against Ethan’s and his brain can’t make out whether this is good or bad. “Why should I do anything for you,” he whispers, trembling just a bit.

Ethan runs his hands across the red shirt he had insisted Stiles wear, rips it open, and presses into the fading mark on his shoulder. “ _Because you’re mine.”_

Stiles hisses at the pain and fights inside his head to stay in control, but Ethan is winning. He feels his focus slipping away, thoughts of Derek struggling against his unseen opponent float away until only Ethan remains.  

“Yeah. _Yours._ I’m yours, Ethan.” Of course he is. This is Ethan. He saved his dad. He’s helped him learn so many new things. They look _gorgeous_ together. He bucks his hips into Ethan wildly, thinking of Ethan’s promise to fuck him properly and now maybe they can have that chance.

“Good boy. And I intend to show you just how you are mine, Stiles. I promise. But first we have to take care of something a little unpleasant, ok? Just help me do this. Help me get rid of this nasty obstacle in our way and then we can be together.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, Ethan.” He leans in and claims Ethan’s lips. He wants to be so good for him and now is his chance to prove how good he can be.

Ethan leads him by the hand into the house where the fighting is. It’s loud and angry and he can’t remember why it’s happening, but Ethan’s right there with him. Derek is fighting with a man that looks a lot like Ethan.

“STILES! Get out of here!” It’s Derek. It’s Derek and he’s angry. He’s still trying to keep him away from Ethan.

“He’s not listening, Hale. He’s with me now. My own little pet to play with.” He shrugs. “Or, more to the point, my little decoy to get the great Derek Hale out of hiding.”

Derek flings the other man across the room and turns to Ethan.

“What?”

 Ethan raises an eyebrow. “Oh, Derek, you’ve been a difficult man to find lately. We’ve been looking for you _everywhere._ You should be proud at how many spies we sent ahead to locate you, and they all managed to come up with that was helpful is that you are nursing a serious hard-on for this kid. Funny how the rumors go. No one had a clue where you were hiding out, but they all knew you have an unnatural obsession with Stiles here. After that, it was easy. My brother here did all the dirty work, shooting the kid’s dad. My job was much more pleasant. I mean, look at him.”

Ethan slides behind Stiles and wraps an arm around his chest possessively. Stiles leans back into him and lets him lick his exposed shoulder. There’s something, _something_ , that is screaming at him that this is all wrong, but he doesn’t want Ethan to stop, either.

He watches as Derek growls low and threatening, but the man he was fighting flies across the room, tackles Derek, and pins his arms behind his back.

“You have no idea how good he feels, too. So eager to please me, to show me what he can do. I almost feel guilty taking advantage of him like this. But then I see his gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock and, naaaah.”

Derek struggles to free himself, but the man is tying him up with rope.

“Oh, a little jealous, Derek? Don’t worry. I have something very intimate planned for you two. Probably more intimate than sex, even.”

Ethan releases Stiles and walks over to a table.

 “You see, Derek, when I set this whole thing up, I was so looking forward to toying with you a bit before I was done with you. I get so bored so easily these days. But when I got to Stiles at the hospital Friday night, my plans changed when I sensed his attempt at magic. Magic, Derek. Isn’t that so old school? It’s adorable.” He picks up a silver blade and twirls it a little in his hands.

“And then he tells me that he only got into it to help _you_ and your pack out and I’m, like, ‘Wow. Could it really be _this easy?’_ And, yeah, ok, maybe I enjoyed toying with your boy a bit, too. Just a little spell to make him…vulnerable. Honestly, it didn’t take much and that surprised me more than anything. He wanted me because I listened and helped him when he needed it and pumped his ego a bit. If I weren’t such a control freak and stickler for a good plan, I probably would have been able to swing this without magic. And then I boosted him a little now and then with a little magic so he’d keep coming back to me for more. Can you blame me, though? I dose him up real good and the high is…mmmmm. Derek, how you didn’t act on this I’ll never know. He is well worth it.”

Ethan places the blade in Stiles’ hand and brushes his palm against Stiles’ jeans clad cock. Stiles moans a little and squeezes the blade tightly in his fist.

“I was hoping to have this over with Saturday night, when I sent him away with my scent all over him, but you…disappointed me. But Stiles here more than made up for it when he came running to me Sunday morning all distraught. Oh, he was so easy to calm down, if you know what I mean. And did you like the touch where I sent him out today with my clothes? I figured it would be easier for you to smell me on him this way. You should have seen how eager he was to wear it when I told him how much I liked it on him. If I cared more…” Ethan pauses to roll his eyes in mock deep thought. “If I cared at all…I’d make you feel some pain just for not giving Stiles the attention he deserves. But you’re going to feel enough pain, I think. It’d be kind of like adding a littering charge on top of Murder One, right?

But I’ve grown so bored of this whole thing. I’m going to enjoy watching Stiles kill you. The last thing you’ll see before you die is your beloved Stiles spilling your guts on the floor. And when I bring him out of the spell he’s under, he’s going to have to live with your blood on his hands for the rest of his life. Isn’t that just delightful?” He narrows his eyes.

“Stiles. Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a right bastard with these cliffhangers, aren't I? I do it out of love, though.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're hitting the "profundis" in "de profundis," kids.

Stiles looks at the knife in his hands and then at Derek.

“Stiles! You don’t want to do this! Please! Stiles! He’s got you under a spell! Come on! Don’t do this, please!” Derek flails and pulls at the restraints wildly.

Stiles walks to Derek and holds up the knife. The blade touches his chest and he pushes in until a drop of blood trickles down his skin. He can't tear his eyes away from it. 

Derek looks up at Stiles. “Please, Stiles. I’ll give you whatever you need. I’ll make up for everything I’ve done. You’re not a killer, Stiles. Don't do this.”

Stiles smiles at Derek. “Whatever I need, huh?”

 “Yes, Stiles! Anything!” Stiles watches Derek in the restraints, vulnerable and afraid and...sad. He blinks slowly and meets Derek's eyes.

“Then I need you…” His hand flexes around the knife and he _winks at Derek._ “To move very quickly.”

With almost superhuman speed, Stiles slashes the ropes around Derek’s wrists and he ducks in time for Derek to lunge forward and rush to Ethan. He’s wolfed out, eyes glowing brighter than Stiles has ever seen.

“Stiles, get out of here!” Stiles crawls on all fours towards the door, but affords a glance back at the fight and Derek is losing. Badly. Ethan and his brother have him outnumbered and Stiles is no match for either one of them.

 

Stiles stands up and closes his eyes. He recites the words under his breath, just like Ethan taught him. If he can just…do _something_ to help. Ethan’s been dosing him magically for three days. He was able to do a little on his own Sunday morning by himself. He just might have enough left in him to do more now.

The tingle starts down low in his feet and rides up his body like one of those Jacob’s Ladders in all the mad scientists’ labs in bad movies. He’s dizzy, shaking, and a warm tickle on his lip tells him his nose is bleeding, but still he concentrates.

A crash tells him it’s working and a panicked yelp a second later confirms it. His head is throbbing now and the blood still gushes from his nose. He tries to open his eyes, but the room around him spins and everything goes black.

 

It’s dark when he awakes. His mouth is dry and his shoulder is wrapped in something that is restricting its movement. He’s not at Ethan’s or, thankfully, the hospital, judging by the dank smell. He’s also not dead. It’s a good start, he supposes.

Someone hears his movements and walks into the sliver of light.

 Derek. He looks a little worse for wear, but Stiles is reserving pity for the fast-healing wolf until he knows more about what is going on.

“Did we win?”

“We’re alive.” There’s the sourpuss he knows so well. It must not have gone that badly. He tries to remove the bandages around his shoulder to inspect the damage. “Don’t. It’s an infusion to reverse the effects of the mark. You don’t belong to him anymore.”

“Did I help?” He vaguely remembers the moments before he passed out.

Derek snorts. It’s eerily close to a laugh. “Well, Stiles. I don’t know exactly what you were trying for, but you did a number on the dining room table.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and breathes out. “I was aiming for their heads.” So, everything Ethan said to Derek is true. He doesn’t have any special magical abilities. It was all Ethan. Everything. Ethan dosed him up and let him believe he had it in him all the time. Unspecial Stiles.

Derek sees the look on his face and the smile fades. “Hey. Hey, Stiles. I couldn’t have saved us without you doing that. It was a good distraction.”

“Are they dead, at least? Is the man who shot my father in pieces?”

Derek looks away from Stiles. “No.” He sighs. “I had to save you. Had to get you out of there. I’m not strong enough on my own to defeat two Alphas and you were my top priority.  I had to do something I never thought I would ever do: I called the Argents after I escaped with you and they’re out on a massive hunt right now. But we’re going back, too. Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, and I are going to make Ethan pay for what he did to you and that’s a promise. I just needed to see that you were ok first.”

Stiles imagines that conversation between Derek and Chris. He would love to have heard that. It can’t have been easy for Derek to have willingly resigned himself to call and ask for help from him. To save Stiles.

And the elephant in the room is still standing there.

Derek sits on the makeshift bed next to him and Stiles supposes it’s kind of sweet that he thought of his comfort to make something soft for him to rest on.

“Stiles, we need to talk.”

“I almost died for you.” No, this is _his_ conversation. “I was magically controlled and essentially raped and made to think I liked it. He knew every weakness I had. He must have been watching me for awhile. He flattered me and seduced me and got me high and he was definitely going to kill me after I released you. Which, by the way, _you’re welcome._ He got me to do things I hadn’t done ever in my life and I lost so many firsts to him, you don’t even know, Derek. And I did all this because of you.”

Derek doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. His face says it all. But Stiles isn’t done.

“I remember everything, Derek. Everything. I was a pawn, a decoy. He used me to get to you because, what, of some crazy belief that it would make you jealous and make you an easier target? He seemed so smart otherwise. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that of all the people he could have chosen, it was _me._ They almost killed my dad. In fact, my dad wasn’t going to make it until Ethan healed him. So now not only do I owe him for my father’s attempted murder, I also now owe him for my father’s life. That’s not a debt I want on my hands, Derek. I don’t want any of this. I’m not part of this world. I’m not special. And I keep getting dragged into it and this time it’s not my crazy loyalty to Scott or my crush on Lydia that got me here. It’s _you._ You don’t give a shit about me. I’m not anyone to you except Scott’s human friend who’s good with research and is crazy enough to help you out when you need it and I still wind up like this.”

Derek bows his head. “Stiles.” It’s quiet, shaky.

Stiles looks up, away from Derek. He doesn’t want an excuse. He doesn’t even want an apology. “What, Derek?”

“Stiles, I am so sorry. I’m sorry for your dad and I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. I can’t…it sounds like nothing to say that. Nothing I can say will ever make up for what you went through. I’m sorry you feel like you mean nothing, like you aren’t special. Because that’s not how I feel, Stiles.” He takes a deep breath. “His information was good. He hit me exactly where it would hurt the most: He hit you." Derek looks up at Stiles with wide eyes. It's not an easy confession.

 

Stiles sits up slowly and swings his feet around so he can stand. “I have to go.”

“No, Stiles. Wait—“

“How could you? How could you do this right now? Do you know what this means? It means that…that everything I gave to him, everything I lost to him…those things are gone, Derek! Because you didn’t tell me how you felt about me before! I could have given those things to you and they would have been something special and instead Ethan took them from me and they’re bad! They’ll always be bad! God, Derek, he was even my first kiss! I’ve lost so much and I could have given them to you instead of having them ripped from me because you’re an emotionally stunted asshole! I can never get those back, Derek. Ever. ”

Stiles grabs his keys and phone from a nearby table and storms out, not caring that he’s shirtless and dirty and weak and dizzy.

Derek doesn’t follow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You better believe "to be continued."


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles drives around for a long time. He doesn’t care if Ethan finds him before the hunters find Ethan. He doesn’t care about letting anyone know where he is and that he’s ok. Nothing matters right now. Nothing.

His phone rings and it’s from a number he doesn’t recognize. He contemplates for a second not picking it up.

“Hello.”

“Stiles?”

“D-dad?”

 

He passes several deputies while going in excess of 75 miles per hour on the way to the hospital and not one of them pulls him over.

 His dad is awake.

 

And pretty pissed off, too.

Stiles can hear him from the hallway, yelling about where that thing is definitely NOT going and where the nurse can shove it instead. Stiles bursts into the room and flings himself at the good Sheriff, pushing the doctors and nurses aside. His color is good, his temper is bad, and he’s _alive._

“Dad!” He doesn’t care that he hasn’t done it since he was 7 and there are people around; he curls up next to his dad and doesn’t let go for a long time.

He stays for several hours and they talk, they watch bad tv (“Oh, he is SO the father!”), and they watch the Raiders beat the Jets. He sneaks several cups of Jell-O off a tray and they devour it together. And Stiles pushes down the everything else that has happened. It’s just not…his dad is ok. That’s all that matters right now.

He kicks him out around midnight with a stern word about not using him as an excuse to skip school. He’s so relieved that he actually agrees without arguing.

“And Stiles?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I believe you promised me a steak. With no vegetables to ruin it.”

Stiles grins. “Anything you want, Dad.”

 

Time passes.

Life…life happens whether he likes it or not. His dad is recovering well, if eager to get back to catch the man who shot him. Meanwhile, the people who really can catch him continue on their quest with little success.

 It’s in the quiet times at night when he catches himself attempting magic. Just to make sure. Sometimes there’s still a spark of something. He starts to feel that familiar tingle and he thinks can just about manage something on the level he was doing before…before Ethan. Other times nothing happens at all. Occasionally, he tries to float a pencil and instead makes the toilet flush in the other room. His heart is just not in it anymore. He’s a one trick pony, he supposes.

Stiles does his best to avoid Derek and even Scott has stopped asking why. As far as anyone in the pack knows, Ethan used Stiles to try to kill Derek and that’s as far as he’s willing to go with it. Derek, to his credit, doesn’t lurk around like he’s wont to do. At least, Stiles doesn’t see him. Not that he’s looking or anything; not for him, at least. The threat of Ethan coming back for him to finish the job is always in the back of his mind.

After two weeks, the confusion and shame at being utterly…normal and defenseless consumes him and he goes to the one man who can give him answers.

“I screwed up. I mean—I mean, I was doing fine. Little things. Until my dad. And then…is that all I’ll ever be? Playing around like a kid with a magic kit? I thought—I thought I was special, too.”

“I told you not to mess around with that, Stiles.”

“I know, Dr. Deaton. It just…”

“The rush? The need to do more? Did you think I was talking about the actual magic when I told you it was dangerous? It’s difficult enough to control even when you’re not emotionally compromised and it's extremely addictive; it’s like a drug, Stiles. I know you had to sense that. Ethan wasn’t lying when he told you he could see it in you, though. I used you once, exploited your emotions, your obvious emotional attachment to Derek, and that was my mistake and I truly am sorry I thrust you into that, but you have to understand so much before you can use it like you did. Do not mistake my admission as my blessing, though.”

“But Dr. Deaton, I can help—“

“Stiles. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you have heart. Too much heart. You feel too freely to be able to control what you have to do to make it work and control it. It’s just too dangerous. For you and those you’re trying to help. You’re a powerful creature, Stiles. That part is true. Ethan didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have. He just…controlled it for you. No one can ‘give’ you magic like that. But you can't go around playing with it until you can control your emotions.”

“He said so many things. I don’t know what is true and what isn’t anymore.”

“And that’s why I can’t condone you messing around with this stuff until you can handle it. And with your dad and Ethan and the problems you need to work through with Derek—“

“What about Derek?” He raises his eyebrows. Like it’s no big thing. Because it isn’t. It’s over. Whatever chance they had is over. And it’s as much his fault as it is Derek’s.

“Yeah, ok. And this is why you’re not ready. You can’t even hide your feelings now.”

“It’s not going to happen, Dr. Deaton. It’s just not.”

“Stiles, look, no matter how things go between you and Derek, you need to resolve it. You’ve opened the door a little and, like it or not, magic ability is influenced by your emotions. It’s part of the reason I picked you in the first place to spread the ash. But if you're not careful, it can manifest itself and you might not be able to stop what happens when it does. I knew you could believe when I gave you the task. And that’s what you have to do now.”

 

The doctors clear his dad for release that weekend. On Friday afternoon, Stiles and Scott make the house spotless and fill the fridge with all his favorite things. They talk about school and lacrosse and Allison. And Derek.

“He’s miserable.”

“He’s Derek.”

“You know what I mean. In fact, I think you know more than what I mean.”

Stiles shrugs and loads another dish into the dishwasher.

 

He thanks Scott with burgers and shakes and it’s the first real food he’s had in a long time.  He’s hungrier than he realizes after the first and goes back for seconds. Scott has four. And he still has dinner plans with Allison afterwards. _Werewolves._

Stiles drops him off and heads home for one last quiet night before he becomes part time nurse for awhile. Some bad tv and maybe some video games are in store for him for the rest of the evening. Bad tv, video games, and normality.

 

Of course, best laid plans and all, he opens the door to his room to find Derek sitting at his desk, mouth in a thin line, face unshaven, and eyes that indicate an extreme need of sleep.

“We need to talk.”

Stiles throws down his stuff and sits on his bed. He had locked his window the day he walked out on Derek; a symbolic gesture at best, he realizes, and now Derek is this immovable object that isn’t going to leave without having his say.

“Fine. Talk.” It doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Stiles. Look. There is absolutely nothing I can say to you to make this better. I know that. I can’t ever give you back what you lost. No apology is ever going to be enough. And my feelings for you are irrelevant. I’ve screwed this up so badly and I can’t even ask that you forgive me.”

“Then why are you here?” He knows he looks like a petulant child, but, at this point, what does he have to prove?

“We have to settle this, Stiles. No matter what the outcome is. There’s a war coming and I can’t leave us…unfinished like this.”

He crosses his arms. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before? Why didn’t you tell me you had something for me? You had to know I would come running before you finished the sentence. You think I did all that for you because I had nothing better to do?”

“Because I am so wrong for you, Stiles. Look what my feelings have done to you. They almost got you killed. You’re so good and you’re so _human._ You deserve—“

“Oh, do _not_ play the ‘you deserve so much better’ card with me, Derek. We have been through too much together for you to cop out with that line!”

“If you died because of me—“

“Then that’s MY decision! And you haven’t exactly been the model of staying alive, either, you know. And I think we’ve saved each other enough to call it a habit now.”

Derek thinks on that for a minute. “How’s the mark?”

“Gone. Completely. Whatever you put on it worked, I guess.”

Derek moves to sit next to him. Stiles flinches a bit when he comes near, not knowing what to expect, but ultimately doesn’t protest.

“Do you mind if I check?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and looks away. “Yeah, go ahead.” He unbuttons his shirt and slides one side off his shoulder.

“See? Gone.”  He still can’t look at Derek this close to him.

Derek turns to get a better view. He takes Stiles’ arm and moves it around, trying to catch the best light; he can feel Derek’s hot breath as he leans in, runs a finger over his skin where it was, and presses in where there had been teeth marks and Stiles shivers a bit at the feeling of Derek touching him.

Stiles breathes in and affords himself a look at Derek in case he’s changing, but he meets green eyes for a long time. He swallows hard and looks away again.

Derek releases him and even covers his shoulder back up with the shirt. “Looks good.”

Stiles plays with his hands, not knowing what else to say. Derek rubs his hands on his jeans.

It’s awkwardly quiet for a moment and he knows what little control he had over the situation is waning rapidly.

Derek breathes in harshly and turns to stare at the wall in front of them. “Everyone I have ever had any kind of feelings for has been taken from me. I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know how to do this anymore. The thought of…of letting myself be vulnerable around you scares me more than anything else we’re up against right now. When I confronted you that night in your room, the first thing that hit me was sex. That you found someone that wasn’t me and that I could…I could be ok with that. And as I got closer to you, I sensed the magic. It’s a very distinct combination of tells and you were giving off all of them pretty strongly. I didn’t even know you were into that. It…honestly, it disappointed me because your humanity is a big part of what I…

Stiles, you’re such a strong link to everything that’s good and human and normal and watching you do what you do with only what you have naturally is…god, Stiles, it’s amazing. You’re stronger than any of us. You have power not one wolf could ever possess. And _that_ makes you special.

But when I sensed that…other thing on you, the wolf took over. It took a long time for me to calm down enough to think straight. The thought of you with another person? I can’t deny you happiness like that. But the thought of you with a wolf, an _Alpha,_ it was the ultimate betrayal. For the Pack and for me. And it killed me to think that it should have been me if you made the decision to be with a wolf.”

Stiles is mesmerized. He’s never heard Derek string together this many sentences in one go and he doesn’t want to interrupt it by doing anything stupid like talking.

“And it broke me when he told me that you were nothing but a decoy to get to me. I thought I had bottled up my feelings well enough to keep you safe and I failed. And I am so sorry for that. But then you…you saved me _again._ You were under the influence of some dark magic and you saved me anyway.” He pauses. “How did you do that, anyway?”

Stiles shrugs. “I wanted to kill you. I was going to kill you. There was this…screaming inside my head. It wanted me to run the knife through your heart and watch you bleed onto the floor. And then something snapped. I looked at you and you were so…sad, I guess. Not sad because you were going to die, but sad because you knew I would have to live with that for the rest of my life. It was like coming out of a fog. I needed to save you. I couldn’t watch you die.”

Derek nods. “You could have been killed saving me.”

“I could be killed walking to my car. At least I would have been dying for something. I would have died to save _you_.” He glances quickly at Derek and clears his throat. “And, uh, I know you would avenge my death and the attempt on my father.  But I trusted you to return the favor.”

“Do you trust me now?” He still won’t look at him.

And he does. Damn himself and damn Derek, too. They have fought side by side so many times before and there’s another battle on the horizon and even after all this, he’ll still follow him blindly into war.

He licks his lips and nods. “Yeah.” He can barely whisper it. “Yeah, I do, Derek. What do you need me to do?”

Derek’s hand reaches up to cup Stiles’ jaw and he pulls on it gently so they are looking at each other. Derek looks terrified. The absurdity of _Derek_ terrified of a _human_ like Stiles isn’t lost on Stiles, but any further thought on that is swallowed up by Derek’s lips on his.

The kiss is soft and almost timid; a light touch of lips to lips before Derek pulls back.

“I can’t give you back what you lost. But, if you’ll let me, I can try to…I can make what we do right now special; give you what you should have had. I can make this so good for you, Stiles, because I _do_ have feelings for you and, if I haven’t completely fucked things up, I think you still have feelings for me. Let’s make this what it should have been for you. You deserve that. And I can give it to you. If you want me.”

Stiles closes his eyes and he’s kissing Derek, holding nothing back—including the tears that have been threatening to fall since the night his father was shot. Derek doesn’t waste any time responding to him, pulling him into his lap like he weighs nothing, holding him closely while they explore each other.

Derek finishes unbuttoning Stiles’ shirt and slides it off, admiring all the new skin he can claim. “Is this ok?”

“Absolutely.” Stiles reaches down, tugs at Derek’s shirt, and he slips out of it and tosses it aside and there’s nothing but heat and skin.

Stiles grinds down on Derek and they are both so hard for each other. Derek groans into his mouth at the extra friction to buck up against and lifts them both together so he can lay Stiles down on his bed and get on top.

“Anything you’re not comfortable with…”

“You’ll know, I promise.” Stiles runs his fingers down Derek’s back to punctuate, making Derek shake a little.

“I just don’t—“

“Derek, shut up. That’s the kind of stuff _he_ said to me. I want this. I want you. I’ll stop you if that changes.”

Derek leans in for a quick kiss. “Just know that you’re in control of what we do, ok?”

No magic is clouding his judgment now. He _is_ in control.

Stiles reaches between them and unbuttons his own jeans and starts to push them down a little and Derek helps with the rest and takes off his own while he’s at it, pausing to rake his eyes up and down Stiles’ body appreciatively.

“What can I do, Stiles? Just ask and I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“I want…” Jesus. He wants everything. He wants to erase every bad memory of Ethan and replace them all with Derek. He wants every part of Derek and he wants Derek to take every bit of him.

“Anything, Stiles. I want to give you anything you want.” He’s never seen Derek so eager before.

“Your mouth on me.”

“Oh, God, yes.” Derek settles into a good angle where Stiles can watch him and takes him in his mouth slowly, sliding down onto it an inch at a time until he can go no further in. Stiles thinks he might actually die from the feeling and the sight of it.

He makes a noise that makes Derek look up at him curiously, but Stiles reaches down and grabs a fistful of hair and closes his eyes, a silent consent to not ever stopping that.

Derek finds a rhythm that threatens to drive Stiles out of his mind and he doesn’t think it could get any better until Derek takes the slicked up fingers he’s been holding the base of his dick with and moves them down, pushing his thighs open a little as he goes.

Stiles thinks he knows what’s coming, but isn’t prepared for the feeling as Derek slowly pushes a finger in. He bucks his hips up hard and Derek pulls off in a hurry.

“Shit, is that not—“

“No, God! Keep going!” He actually pushes Derek’s head back down and Derek doesn’t protest.

The power of this moment is more intoxicating than magic.

Derek finds his rhythm again and tries once more with his finger. This time Stiles relaxes into it and soon Derek can ease more into him and it feels weird, but also really good.

“More.”

Derek seems only too happy to oblige. He adds a second finger next to the first and starts a similar rhythm to his mouth and Stiles is having a hard time breathing and processing all the sensations. He fists Derek’s hair and watches his lips stretch around him and he can feel the orgasm building stronger and stronger. When Derek adds a third finger, his body short circuits and he cries out for Derek,  a much needed release of everything that was still bottled up inside him, and Derek holds him with his free hand throughout the entire orgasm, touching him everywhere he can in an almost comforting way as Stiles spills in his mouth and Derek swallows him down.

Before the aftershocks are over, Stiles yanks Derek up with strength he shouldn’t have and kisses him hard, tasting himself on his lips before he has the chance to swallow it all and Derek moans into his mouth like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.

Stiles is still breathing pretty hard and he’s sweating and Derek’s skin feels so good against him like this but he wants more. He wants to give Derek more. He wants to give to Derek instead of having things taken away and he’s in control and he can choose to give something now and he can choose to give it to _Derek._

“Fuck me, Derek.”

Derek blinks. “Are you sure, Stiles?”

“Fuck, Derek. This is mine to give. No one is going to take this from me. I get to say who and when and I want it to be you. Right now. I don’t know what’s going to happen soon with Ethan and his Pack. I don’t know when they’re going to show up to fight and I don’t know what the outcome is going to be. But right now it’s you and me and I want this. I want you to be my first, Derek. I want it to be special like you said it should be.”

Derek looks humbled. “It would be my honor, Stiles.”

Derek settles back between Stiles’ thighs, kissing along his hipbones. “Bed stand drawer. Pass it to me.”

Stiles is confused, but reaches in a pulls the bottle of lotion he hides in there. “How did you—“

A raised eyebrow shuts him up fast.

He slicks up his fingers properly this time and it’s much easier to relax into them. He thrusts in and out slowly, stretching him until he must feel to Derek like he’s ready to take him and he removes his fingers just as slowly while Stiles whines.

Derek pushes Stiles’ legs up and apart and lowers himself down for a hot kiss. “It might hurt. A lot. If it’s too much—“

“Do it, Derek. Please.” The pain can’t be anything compared to the past few weeks.

Derek takes himself in his hand, slicks himself up, and guides himself to Stiles, pushing in as slowly as he can and Stiles trembles and grabs at whatever he can of Derek’s and, yeah, it hurts, but it’s good, too, and every push brings Derek closer to him. The pain starts to flow away, replaced by a divine fullness and the look on Derek’s face tells him it’s good for him, too.

Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s hips, feeling bold enough to dicate how fast and how deep and it makes Derek growl and grow pliant in his hands.

He pushes, pulls, _controls_ , and he can feel himself grow hard again. It’s not going to take much for him to come again watching Derek obey like this. He keeps one hand on Derek and shoves the other between them to take his own erection and pump in rhythm with Derek’s thrusts.

“God, yes, Stiles. So good…do you trust me to take over?”

Stiles nods and Derek repositions himself a bit so he can get a better angle inside Stiles. They move together and Derek jerks Stiles’ cock for him so he can touch Derek again.

Derek’s breath hitches and Stiles can see every muscle in his body tense up at once and Derek throws his head back and cries out an inhuman growl as he comes inside Stiles and it’s terrifying and beautiful and, in an instant, he’s ruined; he never wants to see anyone else besides Derek come for him ever again.

The sight of him coming, the knowledge that he did that to him, sends Stiles over the edge again as Derek collapses on top of him.

They stay in each other’s arms until they both fall asleep.

 

The simultaneous phone alarms wake them both up several hours later. It’s Scott. And he’s found Ethan.

Stiles watches for Derek’s reaction and it’s anger and bloodlust and revenge and an almost giddiness. “We’re going to get him, Stiles. He dies tonight.”

Stiles looks down. “I suppose this is the part where you tell me to stay here and be safe, right?”

Derek cups Stiles’ jaw. “There are rules to follow about killing Alphas. Especially when an Alpha kills another Alpha. I’ve seen what his pack is about and I don’t want any of that near mine. Or you. And you are due some revenge for what he did to you.  Stiles, I can’t do this without you. I need your…humanity. I need you. We’re going to catch him. But I need you to kill him. Can you do that? You are the only one with the power to do this.”

He pulls him in for a kiss.

“And when we’re done, and his body is in pieces buried underground, I’m gonna fuck you on top of his grave to let even his corpse know that you are mine. And I’m not letting you get away from me ever again.”

Stiles pulls on his clothes and follows Derek out the door and into battle.

 

 

They're losing.

Ethan is strong, taunting, insulting Stiles at every turn and a shadow of the seductive charmer he was before. He flings Scott and Isaac across the room like they are nothing and Derek has a large gash on his chest that is slowing him down as he tries to heal it. Erica throws herself on Ethan's back as he rushes to Stiles, but he throws her down so hard the wood floor of the abandoned cabin cracks.

Derek stands up and hobbles as fast as he can to save Stiles, who had been hiding in wait until Ethan sussed him out.  _Nice try, smelling like Derek to hide yourself._

"Stiles! Run!" Derek's bleeding out quickly and they have not come this far to lose now. And he certainly didn't come this far to lose Derek now, either.

He breathes in a ragged breath and a rush flows through him from his head all the way to his toes and it's...it feels like magic. It feels like magic and he knows what to do.

Ignoring the very real threat of death, he closes his eyes and concentrates. Colors clash behind his eyelids and his skin burns. He can hear Scott yelling for him, but everything sounds like he's underwater. He can feel the ground shake beneath him like an earthquake and he balls his fists at his side and grits his teeth and there's pain like he's never felt before running through his entire body. He focuses on the pain, uses it, breathes through it, and Ethan screams and it's monstrous and macabre, like no sound he's ever heard before, even in his nightmares and when he opens his eyes again, the wolf is dead at his feet.

Dead. By the very magic he used against Stiles.

Stiles is shaking when Derek finally reaches him. He pulls them both down to the ground and holds him until he's calm again.

"How--why did you do that?"

"I--I couldn't lose you. Not when I just got you. Are you disappointed in me still?"

Derek kisses him softly on the lips. "No. How could I be?" He smiles weakly.

Scott, Erica, and Isaac sense the unspoken request from their Alpha and his new mate and drag Ethan's body outside to give them a moment alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, you guys! I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
